Deep silences came between them. But what the deuce! He was human; he was a machine only when on the hunt. . The both of them puttering about the tidy two-story house, Lucy would serve them both steaming cups of tea in the front parlor. “It is hateful—diabolical!” he exclaimed. Finally Lucy replied. "Can't!" repeated his mother. A bobbing lantern, crossing the bridge—for she had not drawn the curtain—attracted her attention. ’ He looked the girl up and down. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures.
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